says, shaking his head again. ‘Did we?’ ‘We did.’ ‘Sure?’ ‘Yes, I am sure.’ ‘You are sure we shook hands.’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Hmmm.’ ‘Okay, weirdo, why are you here?’ Ben asks. ‘Checking on you,’ the doctor says, looking down at him as though the answer is obvious. ‘Not here in this room, but why are you here? In Roland’s Batcave in dinosaur times?’ ‘I just said. I’m checking on you.’ ‘Fuck me, you’re a one, you are,’ Ben says, getting up into a proper sitting position and reaching for the cup, which is on a newly installed bedside
